The day we left the Philippines, my friend Kyle and I walked to the metro station, caught a train across town, and hopped off at what we hoped was the right stop. We made our way on foot through the streets until we found the youth we’ve been hanging out with this month.
At this point, we were an hour away from our hostel and only had a few hours before we had to grab our stuff and head to the airport for our flight to Africa. There was no good reason we weren’t with the rest of our squad getting ready to leave Asia, except that we didn’t feel like we’d really said goodbye yet. God had laid it on my heart for several days that I needed to see these kids one more time – I couldn’t leave without making that happen. We found our friends, and when we’d stayed with them until the last possible minute (meaning 30 minutes past our ‘we have to leave by this time’ point), I said goodbye and didn’t look back. We’ve got to get out of here before I start crying, I told Kyle as we started running to the metro station. I was running towards the train so we wouldn’t be late: I was also running from that goodbye.
I’ve never been able to figure out why it’s called good-bye. What’s so good about being separated from people you care about?
One of our contacts told me that being a missionary means a lifetime of goodbyes. If this year is any indication, that’s a harsh truth to accept. On one hand I feel like all I’m doing is meeting people and gaining friends. On the other, I feel like I’m constantly haunted by hard goodbyes:
Kissing my nephews goodnight, knowing I wouldn’t do it again for nearly a year.
Making friends with the homeless in Guatemala, not knowing what will happen to them.
Hugging our surrogate grandparents goodbye in Honduras.
Staying up all night in Nicaragua to enjoy every last minute before leaving my family there.
Moving out of a fun, laid-back Costa Rican community.
Wondering how I’ll keep in touch with my Thai friends without a common language.
Barely having time to get to know and love our Laotian students before we had to move on.
Leaving the loving care of our beloved house-moms in Cambodia.
Wishing our special needs kids in Malaysia understood why we wouldn’t be there anymore.
My kids in the Philippines chasing us down the street for one last hug before we walk out of their lives.
And one of the hardest ones still to come: saying goodbye to the most beautiful, fulfilling, and confirming year of my life.
It’s crazy to think back to last year, and how terrified I was to say goodbye to life as I knew it. I was scared to walk out of real life, familiar life, and into a hundred unknowns. Now, Race life is what feels real to me. I’m headed home in less than two months, and once again I’m scared to walk out of real life, familiar life, and into a hundred unknowns. I’m not sure when things shifted, when this became reality and home became uncertain.
Life as I know it is eight adults sharing one small house.
Finding a new home every 3-4 weeks.
Going from stranger to family within a few days.
Baptizing new believers and being named a godmother.
Carrying all my possessions in a backpack and still having stuff I don’t use.
Forgetting which country I’m in.
Sleeping in parks with street youth and letting teenagers teach me to skateboard.
Sharing everything I eat with 6 other people.
Having so many different currencies in my wallet that I never know which to pay with.
Life as I know it fits me, and I’m about to say goodbye to it.
I think what scares me about goodbyes is that I think of it as losing something. I feel like once I say goodbye, whatever was good about it is gone, and that’s not true. Saying goodbye doesn’t erase the relationships, lessons, and joys I’m leaving behind. They were all worth a hard goodbye.
Goodbye can’t take away all the story times, curled up with my nephews.
Sitting on the street corner in Guatemala chatting with Naomi.
Bouncing down Honduras back roads, riding in the back of a truck.
Trips to the river and non-stop laughter in Nicaragua.
Coffee with our host in Costa Rica at the beginning of each day, and skateboarding in our front yard.
Cooking Thai food with Monghkon and worship sessions with Kae.
Dance parties and rolling on the floor laughing with the students in Laos.
Birthday celebrations and family dinners in Cambodia.
Playing in the waterfall-la in Malaysia with Khaw Sheng.
Singing around the campfire with the kids in the Philippines.
Goodbye can’t take away the wonders and revelations of this year. I may be going home, but I’m taking those with me.
